Chapter 5 of 28
It's five in the morning. I can't sleep because I keep having scary dreams about people with no faces running around and sacrificing cats to some kind of spirit. We watched a scary movie last night, and I'm still tense, my mind filled with frightening images. It's dark in the room, but I feel better if my eyes are open and I can see outlines of everything around me.
I tell myself not to freak out when I hear a creak come from my living room.
It's not a ghost. It's not an attacker. It's just the wind, I tell myself.
My living room always lets out a creak or two. Everyone's does. It's just that after watching a horror movie, that creak becomes the footstep of a dead person who has come back to torment and finally kill you slowly with its sharp, bloody claws that dig into your flesh lightly at first and then go deeper and deeper, drawing blood from veins buried under muscle, and draining you dry-
"Miki," I whisper sharply, trying to shut out the image from my head.
I grab on to her arm and shake her. She doesn't reply. She looks dead.
"Miki," I say again more loudly.
Again there's no reply and I put my hand on her chest to check for a heartbeat. She's got a slow, steady beat.
"Miki," I say in my normal voice.
She stirs and I relax a bit. She opens her eyes and looks at me.
"Sorry," she mumbles, closing her eyes and rolling away from me.
I huff. She probably thinks I'm complaining about her being in my way.
"Miki," I say again, shaking her arm.
"Yeah?" she slurs.
"Are you awake?"
I know it's not a very smart thing to forcibly wake someone up only to ask if he or she is already awake, but I don't want to admit right off the bat that I'm scared.
"No," she grumbles, trying to convince herself she's just dreaming.
"Good."
I lie down right beside her and wait for her to ask. She knows something's on my mind.
"What's the matter, Aya?"
"I'm having bad dreams," I tell her. "I can't sleep."
"Don't worry. They're just dreams. They can't hurt you," she says, quoting what she's said to me a million times before.
She closes her eyes and looks like she's going to go back to sleep with no more words of comfort.
"I know, but I can't sleep anyway," I continue. "They're scary."
She doesn't respond for a whole minute, and I lie there feeling a little cold. She finally turns around and raises herself up on her elbow, pulling the covers up to cover me all the way to my chin. She smoothes my bangs back and pats me on the head.
"When I first met you, I never would have imagined you as someone who'd get scared easily by her dreams."
I smile in amusement. She used to give me too much credit in the bravery department. Before, she always thought I wasn't afraid of anything, when the truth is that scary movies have often given me nightmares for up to two weeks after watching them. It has gotten a bit better since she started sleeping over more often, because my mind is distracted with other thoughts and I can forget I have seen anything scary. Since she's figured my fears out, she takes good care of me whenever I wake up from a nightmare. Nowadays, I rarely have nightmares, but when I do, she stays awake if they are really bad and if I'm really desperate.
We don't speak and she continues to stroke my hair gently. It's so relaxing that it almost hypnotises me. My eyes close and I drift off.
Two and a half hours later, I'm awoken by Miki. She's dressed and ready to leave, but she's bent over me, whispering my name softly and telling me to wake up.
"Hmmmm..." I mumble groggily.
"I have to leave now," she informs me.
"Bye."
I turn my face away. I just want to sleep.
"I won't be back until late," she says in a singsong voice, wiggling her nose into my cheek.
"Mmm. Bye," I repeat.
I don't want to hold her back and make her late.
She has a mind of her own, of course, and for some reason, she gets up on the bed and lies down beside me, hugging me tightly. I squirm a bit because I'm still half asleep and would like to keep it that way.
"What's your plan for the day?"
I have no idea. I'm barely even conscious yet.
"Dunno. Search for work. Go shopping," I reply half-heartedly.
Her hold on me tightens.
"I heard it's going to rain today. Maybe you should stay in."
I open an eye and try to look up at her.
"Weather report last night didn't say anything about rain," I grumble.
"Weather reports change," she says to me in a reasonable tone.
"Okay. If I go out, I'll take an umbrella."
I wonder why she's talking to me about this, but I don't care to ask because her hold on me loosens and she kisses my cheek in a pleasant way.
"Miki," I say as I start to wake up and remember last night just after we watched that terrible movie.
"Mmhmm?" she asks, her cheek now resting on mine.
"You know last night how we talked about - well, I asked you about that stuff?" I ask carefully.
I feel her cheek tighten up. Maybe she has her mouth set in a grim line. She remembers quite well...
We're getting ready to go to sleep when I sit down cross-legged on the bed and draw her towards me, making her sit down in front of me.
"You've been acting strange for the past few days. Um, not strange, but you seem upset about something. I don't know if something's going on at work or if you're in some sort of trouble, but can you please let me know? I hate watching you get all nervous. I want to help you."
I speak softly but with a firm edge. It's my signal that I'll let her take things at her pace, but that I won't accept "no" as an answer. I want her to let me in on what's going on her life. It's our agreement. It's in our contract. Miki's my alien boyfriend, and the fate of the world is dependent on us.
A distant look takes over her face as she looks past me and at the window. The curtains block her view of the neighbourhood, but she seems to see through them. Then she looks at me solidly and squeezes my hands.
"I promise you that I'm not in any danger," she says softly.
That's a weird reply. Why would I think her life was in danger? I just thought that she was in a miserable situation at work, possibly being harassed by someone, possibly on the verge of being fired. Maybe the situation is pretty serious, though, if she is making dramatic statements like that.
"I'm going to explain everything to you when I get home tomorrow night. I promise," she continues. "But you have to promise to let me go to work and not worry about it, okay? It'll be all right."
She has officially scared me, but I have no choice but to agree. A promise from Miki is a reliable thing. We go to sleep, but I remain unsettled...
"Are you sure you'll be okay today?" I ask after she's recalled the previous night.
She swallows and nods.
"I'm sure. I'll come back at around seven o'clock, and then we'll talk," she says with a steady, honest look.
She could establish a nation with that look. That determination.
It comforts me a bit, but I'm still concerned.
"I'm really really worried about you, Miki," I tell her. "A lot."
She smiles and pushes herself up so that she's propped up over me, looking at me in the face.
"Thanks for your concern," she says. "I'm lucky you're here for me."
Her face turns serious again. No more smile. She seems to be pondering life's mysteries, or perhaps our history together. Whichever one it is, I can see in her eyes that a million thoughts are running through her head.
"Take care of yourself today," she tells me.
She speaks as though she's had a prophetic dream and this is her way of warning me.
"You too."
"Oh, and your breakfast is on the table. It's been ready for a while now," she winks.
Completely awake now, I grin and pull her to me.
And then we "say" goodbye.
Oops, I think twenty minutes later at eight o'clock as Miki scrambles up from the bed, swearing like a drunken sailor and adjusting her clothes while I try to help her look put together again. She grabs a few bags full of papers and runs to the door, screaming that she's late.
"Bye bye!!" I call out cheerfully after her, not being able to resist laughing.
She stops in her tracks and looks back and gives me the most beautiful smile. Not a hint of stress remains in it. I mirror the look on my face, and I'm happy that I have been able to help her relax and forget her troubles for just a bit.
Tonight I expect to find out just what her troubles are.
She sprints out the door and I go to the table. Sitting there is a bowl of cereal, an unpeeled orange, and a glass of tea. I roll my eyes. Such an idle girl. She was doing so well with the breakfasts, too. This is definitely a setback.
I eat and then tidy up my apartment.
"Tidying up" turns into a full-fledged apartment clean up. If Miki says it's going to rain, I may as well start on something indoors.
I finish by lunch time and I whip up some noodles while checking my messages. Someone has called me from a payphone three times but hasn't left any messages. I also have an e-mail from Shiba-chan. She tells me that since the Italy project has been scrapped entirely, she's going on another trip even though she recently got back from a camping trip with her family. She tells me it'll be a short one - Spain for five days - and she'll be back before I notice she's gone.
While I wait for the noodles to boil, I email her back and then send Miki a happy e-mail asking how she's doing.
Neither girl replies right away, so I'm left to myself with my noodles.
The day passes by in a blur. I'm a bit nervous. Who knows what sort of news I'm going to hear tonight.
In the early evening, Shiba-chan e-mails me back. She's leaving in a few hours, so she reminds me that if I need to get in touch with her, I should use her PC mail, not her phone mail.
Still no word from Miki, though. I sigh and prepare dinner.
Seven o'clock rolls around and I'm hungry, but Miki has said she'll be here, so I wait. I watch television and lose myself in the second episode of a romantic drama that I wish I had watched from the first episode.
Time flies by and it hits me that it's eight o'clock. I check my phone but there are no messages. I hesitate for ten minutes and then call Miki.
It rings seven times before the automated voice mail message plays. I leave my message.
"It's me. Where are you? Waiting for you with cold dinner. See ya."
An hour passes by excruciatingly slowly. I hold my phone in my hand and stare at it for most of that hour. I switch the TV on for background noise and continue to wait.
By ten thirty, I'm panicky. I've e-mailed her once and called her twice. No reply to my e-mail, and the same answering machine message plays for my call. Maybe I'm paranoid, but I have a bad feeling.
At eleven, I call her apartment, but the answering machine there picks up. I leave a short message asking her to call me back.
At twelve, I put dinner in the fridge. It has completely slipped my mind for the past few hours, and now I've lost my appetite anyway.
I lie down at one o'clock, my phone still in my hand, my palm sweaty with fear. I can't stop imagining all the horrible things that could have happened.
But maybe she's all right and she’s just doing one of those crazy things she does sometimes. She might have gone out to some party with her co-workers after an unexpectedly good resolution to whatever problem they've been facing. She might be coming back on a late night bus after going to some town to buy something special on a whim.
Or maybe she has fallen and broken her leg in a park while her phone has died because it has run out of battery power.
I call her one more time. This time, however, no answer machine picks up. I get an automated message telling me that the phone is turned off or it's out of service range.
I close my eyes and force all bad thoughts out.
It is in that way I fall asleep.
I wake up abruptly the next morning. My phone, which is right beside my bed, is ringing. Through bleary eyes, I check the time. It's already eight thirty. The previous night's happening suddenly hits me, and I scramble to answer my phone.
"Hello?" I ask in a rushed voice.
"Matsuura Aya-san?" asks an official-sounding voice.
"Yes..." I say slowly, cautiously.
Who is this man? I don't think I know him.
"I'm Sugiura Akio from the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, Minato Ward division three."
My entire body goes numb.
"We are extremely sorry to bother you, but we were wondering if you would not mind coming to our office to provide us with some information," he says politely.
I swallow the huge lump that has formed in my throat.
"What kind of information?" I croak hollowly.
There's an uncomfortable pause.
"If you don't mind, I would very much rather discuss that in person."
My head starts to spin. Does this have to do with Miki? Where is she?
"Okay," I find myself saying. "What's the address?"
The officer gives me an address, and in a completely blank state, I get ready and head down to the police office.
Walking into the huge building gives me chills. I have no idea what I'm there for, but it's definitely not good.
I identify myself to the secretary at the front, and she gestures behind me to a waiting area. In it are three men in casual business suits and two police officers in uniform. They see me and stand up. I assume they are the people I'm supposed to meet.
We walk towards each other. I hold my breath.
"Matsuura-san, I'm Sugiura," the tallest man of the bunch says, sketching a bow.
He's one of the ones wearing a casual suit. He looks well put together, just as a police officer should.
"I'm sorry to call you here so suddenly."
I shake my head.
"Not at all."
The five men lead me to an office, where I'm asked to sit down. A sixth man wearing a police uniform comes into the room and hands Sugiura a plastic bag. He leaves. I watch as Sugiura opens the bag and takes out a small object - a cell phone. He hands it to me.
"Do you know the person who owns this phone?" he asks me slowly.
With a trembling hand, I take the phone. It's the model Miki uses. I open it up, and sure enough, there's her Koala background picture from her trip to Australia last spring. I look through the address book briefly just to make sure. I recognise all the names. This is Miki's phone.
I nod, too stunned to form words. Has she been kidnapped? Attacked? Or maybe even arrested?
The men exchange solemn looks.
"And whose phone would it be?" Sugiura asks.
"A girl name Fujimoto Miki," I say, annunciating very carefully.
"And her relationship to you?" asks another one of the business suits.
I look at him solidly.
"Best friend."
They exchange worried glances, and for some freakish, crazy moment, I wonder if I'm under arrest for being more than just friends with another girl.
"There's one more thing we need to ask you to do, and we're very sorry about it," Sugiura continues.
"What?" I ask in a low voice.
"If you would come to the morgue with us, we need you to help identify a body."
And with that, my world explodes in my face.